Below the Water's Surface
by Cadid423
Summary: Abandoned. Please see 'Whistle Your Way Home'.
1. Prologue

Title: Below the Water's Surface

Prompt: 'Written for the And the Tears Streaming Down Your Face' challenge on HPCF

Warning: Self Harm, Character Death

Disclaimer: Harry Potter is a trademarked brand owned by J.K Rowling and Warner Brothers. Any material used belongs to the aforementioned parties. This material is only used in recreational purposes and I receive no monetary or material rewards from using it. Please don't sue me.

* * *

At first glance, Stephen Cornfoot, Wayne Hopkins, and Megan Jones could pass as siblings. They look frighteningly similar, what with their dark hair, pale skin, and gray eyes. Coupled with their close friendship, it's unsurprising that most people think they're related.

However, looks is as far as their similarities go.

Wayne is a dreamer. And poor… but mostly a dreamer. Not just, I-have-to-buy-second-hand-possessions poor, but every-so-often-the-water-gets-shut-off poor. If a person didn't really know him though, they'd have no inkling of Wayne's poverty simply because Wayne is always so cheerful.

Megan is confident. Never will you meet someone so sure of their own assumptions, and the few times she and Ernie Macmillan ever disagree are always explosive. With her hot temper and argumentative nature, the Welsh girl is easily offended, but quick to forgive.

Stephen is unreliable. He has good intentions, and he really _does_ try to do everything he says he will, but more often than not, lofty expectations fall flat. His grades in every single one of his classes tends to fluctuate depending on where his homework got missplaced that week, and how long it takes him to find it and turn it in for reduced credit. The other two soon learn that a task assigned to Stephen is better done by them.

But war... It changes people. It'll leave you hardened and cold, thinking up is down and right is left. And some people can cope with that. They'll search in their hearts for some inner strength and manage to carry on almost like normal. Others though, they can't. They aren't made for the life altering experience that's lackingly called war. They don't know how to deal with death, destruction, and loss of innocence, so they simply don't.

(Maybe, one day, they'll forgive themselves. These three Hufflepuffs might look just the same, but below the surface, they couldn't be more different. Maybe that's why it could never work out)


	2. Chapter 1

Title: Below the Water's Surface

Prompt: Written for the 'And the Tears Streaming Down Your Face' challenge on HPCF

Warning: Self Harm, Character Death

Disclaimer: Harry Potter is a trademarked brand owned by J.K Rowling and Warner Brothers. Any material used belongs to the aforementioned parties. This material is only used in recreational purposes and I receive no monetary or material rewards from using it. Please don't sue me.

* * *

September 1st, 1998

The dormitories are different this year. Wayne would be lying if he said that he hadn't wondered about the sleeping situation this year along with many other things that he doesn't want to think about right now.

There's an extra room at the end of the corridor. Wayne isn't certain, but he's sure that if he looked, it would read 'first years'.

He leads the group hesitantly towards their normal dorm. It's with a sigh of relief that Wayne reads the inscription on the golden plaque: _Repeats_. It's the same room he's always had, the third door down the hall through the left barrel. The room he's always shared with Ernie, Justin, Zach, and Stephen.

And it's the same room, but not, not really. There's an air of unflawed newness that lingers in the air, a quality that, in Wayne's opinion, should never be allowed in the badger's den. The room itself has been re-expanded so as to make room for Justin's bed, and the circular window that overlooks the greenhouses has been repaired. It's like home, if home had been blown to smithereens and rebuilt in an exact replica.

And it's not quite right, but for now... It will have to do.

* * *

September 2nd, 1998

At breakfast the next day, the Great Hall seems to be both fuller than last year and conspicuously empty.

Some faces are familiar; Justin's back, so are Terry Boot and Dean Thomas. Oppositely, Lisa Turpin seems small without Morag MacDougal's broad shoulders to fill the seat to her right. The entire Gryffindor table is riddled with empty spaces that were once filled with happy students. Hell, just counting Wayne's year, five people are missing from the home of the brave.

And as sad (selfish) as it is, Wayne can't help but be thankful that Hufflepuff survived mostly intact.

Mostly.

Ernie's got a nasty scar right along the hairline that veers sharply to end above his gray eyes. Megan feeds herself porridge only slightly clumsily with her left hand, the other one ending in a rounded stump at her elbow.

_'Mostly intact is better than not at all,' _Wayne thinks.

(Is it though? Now he's not so sure)

* * *

September 15th, 1998

When Wayne first hears the screaming, his gut reaction is to grab his wand and start firing spells into the 2am darkness. Then he realizes that the sound is coming from his left, from Stephen's bed.

Rolling out of his own four-poster, Wayne makes his way over to his still sleeping best friend. Stephen's caught in the throes of a nightmare, thrashing about in tangled sheets, clearly terrified.

"Stephen," Wayne calls quietly but insistantly, grabbing his friend's shoulder to keep him from falling out of bed.

"Stephen, wake up!" Stephen jolts awake, eyes wide and unfocused as he tries to sit up. He's pale and clammy, brown hair soaked through with cold sweat. He looks around wildly before peering up nervously at Wayne through unadjusted eyes.

"Wayne?" He asks uncertainly, freeing his arms from their bindings, "Is that you?"

"Yeah," Wayne replies, squatting down to the wood floors so as to be at eye level. "Are you okay?"

"Sorry," Is the instant answer, voice suddenly calm and collected. "I'm- yes, I'm sorry. I just had a nightmare, but I'm good." Stephen's voice is mechanically nonchalant, but Wayne lingers anyway.

"Are you sure?" He asks awkwardly, picking up the black and yellow bedspread from where it lies forgotten on the floor.

"Because I could go and get someone to-"

"NO! I mean," Stephen backtracks hastily as Wayne pins him with a suspicious look. "Really, it's fine. It was just this once, I don't need anyone or- I don't need anyone."

There's something off with Stephen's tone as he says this, but his voice is firm and Wayne is tired. Stephen's an adult, legally at least. It isn't Wayne's place to hover about like a worried mother hen.

"Night then," Wayne turns back to his own bed, putting the conversation out of his mind for the time being and falling almost immediately to sleep.

(It is innumerable, the amount of times Wayne will go over this conversation in his head. It's the start of something that no one saw coming)

* * *

**Okay, just a heads up, this is a fic that's just something to do while on prepairing for graduation. The chapters probably won't get any longer than drabble length, and I'm only planning on having ten or eleven chapters and maybe an epilogue. I'll update maybe twice a week, maybe more if I get into it, so look out for that. This is my first angst-y fic, so tell me what you think!**


	3. Chapter 2

Title: Below the Water's Surface

Prompt: Written for the 'And the Tears Streaming Down Your Face' challenge on HPFC

Warnings: Self Harm, Character Death

Disclaimer: Disclaimer: Harry Potter is a trademarked brand owned by J.K Rowling and Warner Brothers. Any material used belongs to the aforementioned parties. This material is only used in recreational purposes and I receive no monetary or material rewards from using it. Please don't sue me.

* * *

October 17th, 1998

As far as war injuries go, Megan Jones is a bit of a stand still. Losing an arm sounds pretty life changing, but it could actually be much worse. She is not grotesquely disfigured, diseased or insane, she's not pathetically dependent upon any other person, and besides no longer being able to climb a ladder or knit a blanket, Megan's pretty self-sufficient.

It isn't so bad, missing an arm, but that doesn't mean Megan is at peace with her injuries. _Of course_ she wishes it hadn't happened; relearning to eat and write left-handedly is a royal pain, and unfortunately, Megan had to purchase a new wand, her old one no longer fitting her hand and magic.

New, new, and new: that's the name of the game now.

(Maybe that's why it's so easy to forget what's old)

* * *

October 21st, 1998

Unlike a large majority of the school, Megan Jones doesn't sign up for the school-provided therapy suggested to anyone who fought/witnessed/lived through the Second Wizarding War. Instead, she chooses to take _physical_ therapy instead, learning to live without a right arm.

And you wouldn't think it would be much use, but you, like Megan, would be very surprised. Gwen, Megan's sister, was most adamant that the eighteen year old test her flying abilities. As it turns out, having an unequal weight very much effects the path of a flying broomstick.

(Megan wasn't all too thrilled to learn this either)

And maybe it's a bit selfish, but Megan asks Stephen to come with her. He is her boyfriend after all: the least he can do is support her.

* * *

October 23rd, 1998

"You didn't sign up for counseling?" Wayne asks with surprise, looking at Stephen incredulously.

"Megan asked me to with her to physical," Stephen explains.

"You don't mind coming with me, do you Stephen?" Megan's words are polite, but her tone makes it clear only one answer is acceptable.

Stephen smiles at her, tiredly but not without affection.

"Of course not," He reaches around her shoulders so as to pull her close to his body.

"You know I'd do anything for you,"

(It's the sort of thing people say but don't really mean. _Does_ Stephen mean it? Megan wishes she'd known)


	4. Chapter 3

Title: Below the Water's Surface

Prompt: Written for the 'And the Tears Streaming Down Your Face' challenge on HPFC

Warnings: Self Harm, Substance Abuse, Character Death

Disclaimer: Disclaimer: Harry Potter is a trademarked brand owned by J.K Rowling and Warner Brothers. Any material used belongs to the aforementioned parties. This material is only used in recreational purposes and I receive no monetary or material rewards from using it. Please don't sue me.

* * *

November 11th, 1998

Stephen Cornfoot is handling it. _It_, being the suffocating depression that threatens to consume him every time he closes his eyes, opens his eyes, takes a breath… You get the picture.

After Wayne caught him in the throes of a nightmare at the beginning of term, Stephen makes a point of sealing and silencing the yellow curtains that rim his four-poster every night before he tries (and fails) to sleep.

Because if Wayne, or Justin (or anyone really) found out about Stephen's nightly terrors? He doesn't know if he could stand the embarrassment.

And that's just it; it's _embarrassing_, how effected Stephen was by the war. And maybe it'd be more understandable if Stephen had actually played a major part in the war: fought in a battle or was injured or kidnapped, but he wasn't.

Stephen Cornfoot did not play a major part in the war. He did not fight in a battle or get injured or kidnapped.

Stephen Cornfoot watched in horror as layer after layer of a hastily crafted world crumbled around him, despite his best efforts and sincere prayers for it all to just **stop**. And as spotty as he is, Stephen does _occasionally_ need structure.

Is he traumatized? Stephen doesn't think so. 'Pathetic' would be a more appropriate moniker, at least in his eyes. He doesn't need pity or sympathy or a listening ear. It doesn't need anyone or anything:

_He's handling it._

(Stephen didn't know it would end up like this. Maybe if he had, he would have gotten help)

* * *

November 19th, 1998

Stephen Cornfoot is still handling it. All by himself in the dead of night, and with the help of a highly scrutinized sleep aid, but he's desperate and determined to work by himself.

It's well known to anyone with any kind of experience in Potions, Magical Medicine/Healing, or Wizarding Law that Dreamless Sleep potions are highly addictive, and when used over long periods of time, cause the user to build a tolerance against them.

Stephen is a pure-blooded, rather well educated young wizard, and so is well aware of the dangers of the innocent looking vial of purple potion clutched in his hands. However, Stephen's already tried a normal sleeping potion and discovered an infuriating allergy to Valerian Sprigs, so he's had to up the ante.

It's with nervously twitching fingers that the Hufflepuff peels off the wax seal that rims the edge of the flask.

He just so _tired_. All Stephen wants to do is sleep through the night. Is that really so much to ask?

(It's sad, isn't it? The things shame and desperation can drive a man to do)


	5. Chapter 4

Title: Below the Water's Surface

Prompt: Written for the 'And the Tears Streaming Down Your Face' challenge on HPFC

Warnings: Self Harm, Substance Abuse, Character Death

Disclaimer: Disclaimer: Harry Potter is a trademarked brand owned by J.K Rowling and Warner Brothers. Any material used belongs to the aforementioned parties. This material is only used in recreational purposes and I receive no monetary or material rewards from using it. Please don't sue me.

* * *

December 9th, 1998

Stephen Cornfoot might think he's fooling the world, but Wayne Hopkins has known the grey eyed boy for far too long to be convinced of his friend's 'normal' behavior.

Oddly enough, his first hint comes through responsibility of all things.

You see, _responsible _and _Stephen Cornfoot _simply do not add up, they do not compute.

Like, ever.

Seriously, they're like oil and water, Gryffindors and Slytherins, Knarls and generosity. The two should never be put in the same sentence without an 'isn't', 'not', or 'should try to be' in between.

That's why Wayne is so surprised when, come Monday, not only does Stephen have all his homework done, but it's all been tucked away neatly into his satchel _**and **_that said satchel is hanging comfortably across Stephen's shoulders instead of lying forgotten under his bed, or Ernie's bed, or on the towel rack, or behind the Venomous Tentacula.

(See, you think Wayne's making this up. That's okay; most people do. Wayne is nothing if not dramatic)

* * *

December 15th, 1998

Wayne feels that, as Stephen's girlfriend and a shared best friend between the two, he is obligated to tell Megan about his worries over the pureblood. However, he probably should have thought more about what he was going to say exactly.

"You know what?' Wayne starts suddenly, having finally caught Megan alone and consequently, finally had the chance to speak with her privately. "I haven't had to turn in Stephen's homework in for him in almost two weeks."

Almost immediately Wayne regrets his poor choice of words because Megan's eyes light up with pride in her boyfriend.

"Really? That's wonderful!"

"Yeah it is, but I think there's something-"Megan continues to talk, clearly not listening to him.

"I knew it was a good idea to have him come with me to PT! Probably made him realize how lucky he is and how immature he's acted over the years,"

And Megan's tone is cheerful, but there's a bitter tightening in her eyes as she says this. Unfortunately, Wayne can't be bothered with that right now.

"No Megan, wait! Listen for a second!" Wayne says this loudly to catch the shorter girl's attention.

"I think something's… wrong," He finishes lamely.

Megan stares at him curiously, not understanding. "Wrong? Wrong with what?"

Wayne takes caution to lower his voice, glancing around for eavesdroppers. "Wrong with Stephen,"

Unexpectedly, (though in hindsight Wayne realizes later, it probably should have been) Megan's temper flares.

"Why?" she hisses angrily in a voice loud enough to carry several yards. "Just because Stephen's finally learning to take care of himself, you immediately jump to the conclusion that something's wrong with him!" She raises her hand to poke him hard in the chest. "You've got some nerve, Wayne Hopkins, trying to tell me that-"

"Megan," Wayne cut into her tirade, not offended, but exasperated and slightly annoyed. "You know I wouldn't be saying this if I wasn't genuinely concerned,"

He looks at her sternly before continuing on, "He's become more responsible, sure, but that's not just it. Have you noticed how he walks, how he speaks? It's like he lives in slow-motion!" Wayne's really starts in, worry clearly coloring his hushed tone. "And he's been eating weirdly too. He started in on sandwich the other day during lunch and nearly made himself sick trying to spit it out after I mentioned how fresh the tomatoes were! Haven't... haven't you noticed?"

The Welsh girl deflates slightly, making Wayne think that no, she hadn't noticed, but she doesn't seem too ruffled by what she's been told. "He's probably just having an off week," She dismisses easily. "I'm sure it's nothing, Wayne,"

Wayne nods in hesitant agreement. "But you'll keep an eye out, won't you?" He asks anxiously.

Megan rolls her eyes. "If it'll make you stop worrying, then sure,"

(Wayne should have insisted. He should have made sure. But he didn't. And it isn't his fault)


	6. Chapter 6

**AN: **Hey guys! I'm sorry to say that this story has been officially abandoned. Don't worry though! I'm already working on republishing a newer, better version of it called 'Dethroned by the Aftermath'. It should be up by the time I post this, so if you liked this story you should go check it out! Thanks for putting up with me! – Cadid423


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